I'll Carry Your World
by sunsingergirl
Summary: Bits and pieces from a divergent AU based on the RP Callidus, where DN met 28 Days Later. Matt and Mello hook up in LA and try to avoid the infection as it spreads, picking up more survivors along the way. Rated M because matureness. Not really a M/M pairing here, more them as bros/close friends.
1. Sheer Amusement

Title: Sheer Amusement  
>Author: Sun<br>Fandom: Death Note  
>Characters: Mello, Matt, Dylan<br>Prompt: Catch  
>Rating: Meh<br>Genre: AU, WAFF  
>Word Count: 300<br>Summary: Matt decides it's about time for D's rite of passage.  
>AN: This is from an AU inspired by the RPG I was playing in at the time: Callidus, where DN meets 28 Days Later. The game allowed OC's to be played, and D (or Dylan) was one of my Wammy Kid OC's, but in this fic series she's a kid they found in a pilfered grocery store and just sort of adopted.

Mello's level of amusement skyrockets as he approaches the open door of the kitchen, where he can see the light from the candle flickering. Dylan's laughter is loud as it pitches and crests, and Matt's giggle-filled shushing doesn't help much. Smirking a bit, he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest as he watches the duo. Watching as Dylan holds the spatula in her tiny fist, Matt taking her hands and moving them as if they were his own, it slowly sinks in to Mello how great of a dad Matt could've been – had he not been almost completely anti-social.

_And if that damned virus hadn't turned the entire world to complete shit_, he thinks with a slight roll of his eyes.

Dylan, though, seems to be just what Matt needs to bring this side out of him; ever since they rescued the girl from the supermarket two months before, the hacker's become more of an extrovert. The seven-year-old rarely leaves his side, sleeping between the two men and refusing to bathe or use the restroom without one of them just outside the door.

"Catch it, D, catch it!"

Matt's voice brings Mello out of his musing, and his eyes focus on the slight flick of Matt's wrist as he flips the pancake out of the skillet; it flies upward just a few inches, and Dylan can't seem to contain her squeal of excitement as it smacks back into the pan.

Laughing a bit as he comes forward, Mello playfully ruffles her short brown hair. She turns her head as Matt releases her, looking up at Mello with a bright smile and happy green eyes.

"I did it, Mello! I made pancakes!"

He smiles. "You did. You're officially a woman."

She gives another happy giggle, hugging his leg.


	2. Every Moment Was So Precious

Title: Every Moment Was So Precious  
>Author: Sun<br>Fandom: Death Note  
>Characters: Matt, Mello, Dylan, Nan<br>Prompt: Catch  
>Rating: MA<br>Genre: AU, Tragedy, Angst, Horror  
>Word Count: 300<br>Summary: Can one M's demise mean the downfall of the other?  
>Warning: Graphic Character Death, Gore<br>A/N: Set in the same universe, where DN meets 28 Days Later. Taken from the premise of the RPG I was playing in at the time, Callidus.

It's all happening too fast; Mello can't seem to keep up. All that's racing through his mind when Matt releases a bloodcurdling scream is _Forty seconds, forty seconds, sweet Jesus, only forty fuckin' seconds. _Nan's busy driving the truck, and Dylan's safe in the middle seat, so Mello turns and starts to wriggle out the open back window, gun already in his hand. It only takes him a second to aim for the infected sinking its grotesque teeth into Matt's ankle, and he squeezes the trigger; there's a slight cracking sound as the bullet penetrates the skull, and the former mailman falls out the back of the bed, Matt flailing and kicking at it. Mello wriggles the rest of the way out the back window.

"_Jesus_-"

There's blood _everywhere_, and Mello starts to feel sick to his stomach when Matt turns over and vomits more of it. When he looks up, Mello goes cold to see the blue eyes he's known since childhood red and bloodshot.

Matt's chest is heaving as he stares. "Do it."

Mello can't move.

"Mello! Just fucking do it, a'ready!"

His hands shoot upward, fingers grasping at his face, tangling in his hair. "_Fuck_! Shut the fuck up, I can't _think_, dammit!"

Blood streaming across his chin, Matt's eyes narrow up at his best friend. "There's nothing to fuckin' think about – nngh! Jus' _do it_!"

Mello's jaw clenches as his grip on the gun tightens.

"_Mello_!" Matt bellows, slamming his hand on the bed. "_Fucking shoot me_!"

Forcing his mind into a blank, Mello takes aim, the barrel of the gun pressing lightly against Matt's forehead – right between those blue eyes – and he pulls the trigger, watching Matt's body tumble out the open back of the bed before leaning over the side and emptying his stomach.


	3. A New Way of

Title: A New Way of...  
>Author: Sun<br>Fandom: Death Note  
>Characters: Mello, Matt, Dylan, Nan<br>Rating: MA  
>Genre: AU, Horror, WAFF, tragedy, sliiiiiiight comedy, if you squint<br>Word Count: 2133  
>Summary: At first, Mello isn't quite sure what to think when they find her huddled in football field concession stand.<br>Warning: Graphic character death, graphic childbirth, all-around "oh shit"ness and "wtf"ery.  
>AN: I've been writing an awful lot of fic centered around the RPG I'm currently playing in: Callidus, where DN meets 28 Days Later. This is one of those. Also: I apologise for the slight sappiness in the ending. My husband convinced me rewrite it; he said the original was too abrupt. *amused* This is what came from it.

At first, Mello isn't quite sure what to think when they find her huddled in a football field concession stand. Matt just hugs Dylan closer to himself, trying his best to hide the girl from view. Seven-year-olds, he says, aren't meant to fight the infected.

_Neither are pregnant women,_ Mello thinks, his eyes lingering on the young woman's swollen belly.

"How far along?" is all he asks, his hands in his pockets; ever since the world turned to shit, he's managed quite successfully to switch himself to blue jeans. They're easier to run in than leather, and he does much more running than fighting these days. _I can't fight these fuckers, so how the hell can she?_

She stands, and she's terribly thin around her baby bump; Mello grits his teeth at the sight. It's almost sickening, how horribly malnourished the woman is, and he watches her, noting the normal yet sunken-in brown eyes, the long, straight,_greasy_ dark brown hair. She's wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of worn, denim overalls; one of the clasps is broken, and there's a wide blood stain across her abdomen. Both men stare at it meaningfully.

She looks down. "It's not mine," she says; her voice is tiny, frail. Licking her lips, she looks back, at both of them. "And it's not infected blood; it's my husband's." There's no shake to her tone, no quiver to her lip; she looks and sounds completely hollow on the subject. Something in Mello goes still at her demeanor.

"How far along are you?" he asks again, and she finally answers, "Six months."

He nods. The virus has been running rampant for a little over five months, so she had_ just_ become pregnant when the shit hit the fan. _Damn_. They can't leave her behind now.

Mello hears Matt shuffle forward just a bit. "She'll slow us down," he says in a low voice. The blond looks back at him, his eyes settling on the tiny girl in Matt's arms.

"So do kids."

Dylan just chews her lip, tilting her head back and staring up at Matt. The redhead's grip on her tightens.

Turning back to the woman, Mello grimaces inwardly at the situation. It's distasteful. Walking forward, he wraps an arm around the woman and begins to help her forward, guiding her toward the pickup they lifted out of a mechanic's garage in Tuscon. Matt is silent, never daring to show his mixture of disapproval and appreciation for what Mello's doing, and he picks Dylan up in his arms, carrying her behind the other pair.

"What's your name?"

"…Nan."

They both know she's lying. False names, they feel, are their specialty, one of many. They don't care; her real name means nothing now.

Mello smirks, his eyes trained on the truck. "Nan it is, then." They reach the pickup, and he opens the door, helping her inside and shutting the door. "There's half a chocolate bar left in the glove box, if you want it."

Matt's leaning in the driver's side, buckling Dylan in the middle; his eyes widen at that, and he stares at Mello. When he snaps out of his surprise, he jumps in the bed, and Mello settles in the driver's seat. Three of the four stare at the slowly darkening horizon, Dylan's eyes wide at the howl emanating from the unseen danger lurking just beyond it.

"And then the warrior dressed in black took off her mask, and the man easily recognized her as the princess of their fucked-up little empire."

An answering gasp full of childish wonder and excitement is enough to tear Mello's attention away from the window, where he's keeping watch. A small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he glances over; the sight is one he's not sure he'll ever grow accustomed to: Matt lying on his side, left arm draped lazily over Dylan's middle. The girl's also lying on her side, but her right one, facing the redhead and staring up at him with so much impossible and probably unnecessary devotion in her eyes. He started telling her stories by candlelight just the week before, when she started having trouble sleeping in the dark, even with him by her side. He always makes sure they're stories full of wonder and adventure, romance and happy endings.

Mello never voices his agreement, but its tangible; _It's what she needs right now, more than anything else. _

Nan lies in the corner, just to Mello's right; she's curled in a ball, arms wrapped protectively around her huge belly. He glances over at her. She's now seven months along, and Mello's begun to wonder what they'll do when the baby comes.

She's snoring lightly; Mello sneers to cover his smile as he turns back to the closed window.

Mello can't _think_ with Matt screaming at him – "_Mello! Fucking shoot me_!" – and so he takes everything that's holding him back, all fourteen years of memories, and shoves them down deep, where they can't hold him back anymore, and let's the barrel of his gun settle between Matt's blue eyes. He pulls the trigger before he can rethink his decision – _more Matty's decision than mine, really_ – and he turns away as Matt's body goes limp and tumbles out the open bed of the pickup, vomiting rather violently over the side.

Dylan and Nan are both screaming at him from inside the cab, and Mello just slumps over, against the broken window, never really hearing them. Finally, he leans over and crawls back inside; the screaming is louder here, but it's better than what's going on inside his own head. The girl pummels him with tiny fists and fixes him with tear-filled, angry green eyes. The tears roll pathetically down her cheeks, making her brown hair stick to her, and Mello just wraps his arms around her, effectively stopping her flailing and fighting – though her sobs feel neverending.

Nan, still driving, is also wracked with tears, though she somehow manages to keep them quiet; fully grown, she realizes the reality of their lives now, and the act she just witnessed makes her both pity Mello and respect him. She grits her teeth, jaw tensing, and reaches over, stroking her palm along the curve of Dylan's back, exposed by Mello's arms.

"Shh," she murmurs, her eyes never leaving the deserted road. "Shh, baby; Matt's in a better place now." That's all she knows to say, Mello knows, though he catches her hand in his and gives it a light squeeze – the only appreciation he'll show.

She squeezes his back, and more tears roll down her face.

Later that night, they find shelter in an abandoned movie theater; holing up in the projection booth upstairs, Mello's leaned against the locked door, and Dylan's fast asleep in Nan's lap, on the far end of the cement room, her sleep-calmed face still streaked with dried tears and pressed against the bump of Nan's baby.

They sit in silence for what feels like hours.

"It got him on the ankle."

Nan looks up, her eyes landing right on him; it's the first thing Mello's said since the incident. She blinks, frowning, her mouth forming grave lines around the corners.

"Do you need to wash up?" she asks, barely blinking. He looks down at himself; his vest is sticking to him with Matt's dried blood. "It's in your hair, too," she comments quietly, and Mello just stares down at his vest, wishing to God she hadn't told him that.

He stands, turning away from them, and lets his hand rest on the silver doorknob. His shoulders hunch a little as his brow furrows. Just two days ago, that was _Matt_ holding onto Dylan, telling her some absurd, bullshit story about a warrior princess and a "happily ever after." He shakes his head at nothing at all, twisting the knob and silently making his way down the stairs, always conscious of the gun tucked into the back of his blue jeans.

It's sudden; barely three weeks later, they're in a tiny town in Oklahoma: Daisy. Mello scoffs, slightly amused, when he realizes that it's basically a gas station. Most of the food inside is canned, and still good; he cracks open a few of them with pocket knife, and they're about halfway through the makeshift meal when Nan gasps. Mello looks over, alarmed, hand already reached around his back and on his gun; he has a hard time switching modes when he sees the shiny wetness pooling beneath Nan, soaking her maternity jeans.

The two adults stare at each other a minute, both trying to wrap their minds around the situation. Dylan's eyes widen. "Nan!" she whispers in a hushed voice. "Did you just _pee_ yourself?"

Mello doesn't even spare himself a laugh as he launches to his feet, heading straight for the front of the store and grabbing several of the clean hand towels sitting, neatly folded, behind the front counter. There are no actual blankets or anything of the sort, so he just returns to the back room with them, locking the door in a hurry and heading straight for the sink, plugging the drain to fill it with warm water.

The baby comes in a hurry; less than three hours later, Nan releases a final cry, and the baby's in Mello's hands, all red and slick and quiet. He swallows, clearing its mouth with a clean finger, and it lets out a shrill cry that has Dylan's hand pressed over her ears. Nan's leaning back, chest heaving with gasps and breaths, and Mello takes the baby over to the sink, cleaning it off.

"It's a boy," he comments over his shoulder to Nan as Dylan hands her towel after towel before bringing one to Mello. He dries the baby off and orders Dylan to sit against the far wall; once she's on her butt with her legs crossed, he lays the baby gently in her arms and goes back to Nan. After a few more minutes, the afterbirth is delivered and disposed of outside the back door, and Mello's got Nan lying back, trying to stop the bleeding. It's already begun to slow, and Mello meets her eyes, his way of silently telling her she'll be fine.

She chuckles lightly. "Where'd you learn the basics of childbirth?"

That earns her a smile. "Heh. I'm a fuckin' genius, didn't I tell you?"

Dylan gasps behind him. "Mello!" the seven-year-old huffs, rocking the baby on her lap gently. "Watch your language, mister!"

Nan breaks out into laughter first, then Mello. He can't help it.

"I'm going to name him Matt," she says as soon as the laughter dies down. Mello's smile fades, and he looks down. Wiping the insides of her thighs with a wet towel, he responds simply, "No, you're not." She quirks an eyebrow at the top of his head. He looks up finally, meeting her gaze steadily. "You can name him anything but _that_."

She's noticed his problem with saying Matt's name; he hasn't mentioned the incident, not once, and Matt's name has yet to pass his lips again. Giving him an amused smile, Nan replies, "He's my son. I'll name him whatever I damn well please."

"_Nan_!" They both look at Dylan again, who stares at her with widened eyes. "You need ta watch yer language, too!"

"Cut it _out_, D," Mello shoots back, unamused this time. He turns back to Nan, fixing her with a deadly stare. "Don't you dare."

She just stares back and shrugs. "Too late. I've made my decision." He throws the towel down; it makes a sick, wet sound as it slaps against the linoleum, and Mello storms out, into the front of the store to keep watch awhile. Watching him leave, Dylan slowly shoves herself to her feet, careful of the barely swaddled baby in her arms, and walks over to where Nan's lying, covering herself with a t-shirt Mello'd found in one of the cabinets. Silent, Nan takes the baby from Dylan before wrapping one arm around the girl, urging her to settle in against her left side.

"He'll be all right," she tells her. "Just give him time."

The little girl sighs. "How _much_ time?" Nan chuckles, shrugging and staring down at her new son. The baby yawns and blinks wide blue eyes up at her - almost the same blue as Matt's. "He needs to get used to this new way of..." She sags a little against the wall, rubbing Dylan's left arm. "This new way of whatever it is we're doing."

Just outside the door, Mello leans against the wall, listening. He blinks once before shoving himself off the wall and stalking out into the main part of the store.

_We're sure as hell not living._


End file.
